


I Ain't No Sir, Missy

by DaronwyK



Series: What if... HP Drabbles & Short Stories [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: Aberforth doesn't sit meekly by as his brother plays with peoples lives. Just listen, and don't be calling him Sir.





	I Ain't No Sir, Missy

**Author's Note:**

> One-Shot, for now.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 

Aberforth had long lived in his brother’s shadow, his own talents and achievements measured against his older, more talented brother. People only ever saw Albus’ good works, the bright and shining accomplishments of his life. They saw the discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, the vanquisher of Grindelwald, and the champion of the muggle-born. He snorted and tossed some grain to his goats. None of them knew the first thing about his brother, what lurked under the wholesome façade. He was doing it again, playing with the lives of others. This tournament was archaic and cruel. It risked innocent children for the entertainment of others. It was something that Albus would never have allowed to take place, unless he had his reasons. Harry Potter’s life was on the line, and clearly it was by his brother’s design or he’d have put a stop to it. He would have stopped it, unless it was for his mythical ‘Greater Good’.

 

Aberforth closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He headed towards the more travelled parts of Hogsmeade, and that was when he saw the boy. Harry Potter was walking with his little muggle-born friend, the one with the messy curls and bossy tone to her voice. “Harry Potter,” his voice carried, causing the boy and his friend to turn.

 

Harry frowned and turned, looking at the tall man. “Do I know you, Sir?”

 

“Name’s Aberforth, I run the Hog’s Head,” he said.

 

“Aberforth Dumbledore. You’re the Headmaster’s brother, aren’t you?” Hermione chimed in.

 

“Indeed I am, missy. I’d like a word with the both of you. I have some things you need to hear,” his pale blue eyes flitted between the two of them.

 

“I guess…” Harry looked unsure but nodded. He and Hermione followed the tall wizard away from the busier parts of the village. They passed a few older wizards, smoking pipes and chatting quietly. The Hog’s Head loomed, dirty and forbidding. There was a sign up declaring it closed for the day, but Aberforth opened the door for them. Hermione’s nose scrunched up a little, looking at the dirt-encrusted bay windows.

 

“Have a seat,” he said and found two butterbeers for the teens. “First and foremost, you need to know that your first task in this tournament will be to face a bloody dragon. They’re bringing them in this weekend. From the look on your faces, no one has yet seen fit to warn you.”

 

“A dragon?” Harry paled, feeling his breakfast threatening to make an appearance.

 

“That’s barbaric!” Hermione shouted and turned to her friend, horror clear on her face.

 

“Indeed,” he reached under his bar and handed a heavy book to the girl. “There should be something in there that will help you prepare him for that first task.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore,” Hermione said. “You said there were things you needed us to hear?”

 

“I did. What do you really know about my brother?” He asked them.

 

“He defeated Grindelwald, and organized the resistance against Voldemort in the first war,” Harry said.

 

“He was one of the brightest students in his year of Hogwarts, and did some work with Nicolas Flamel,” Hermione added.

 

“In short, you know next to nothing about the man who’s controlling your lives,” Aberforth sighed a little. “My brother is a talented wizard, that’s true. Smarter than most, and sly as a fox. He’s made his share of mistakes, and they’ve cost good people their lives. Including our own sister, Ariana.” He nodded to the portrait of a pretty young girl. “When our sister was very young she was brutally attacked by a group of muggle boys, to the point where she became so traumatized that we could never trust her in public. She killed our mother with a burst of accidental magic when Albus was only seventeen. I was still in school, just finishing my Owls when it happened. I intended to leave school and care for her, but Albus was insistent that I complete my education. He stayed at home in Godric’s Hollow to care for her, and that was where he met a young Gellert Grindelwald.” He paused and saw the understanding hit them both.

 

“They were two of a kind, Gellert and Albus. Both brilliant, ambitious, and both felt shackled by society. Gellert had been expelled from Durmstrang for his experiments in Dark Magic, and Albus resented that he had to care for our sister instead of travelling the world. Together they began to plan a brilliant future, where they would rule over both the Magical and Muggle worlds, bending everyone to their will for something they came to call, ‘The Greater Good’,” his tone was sad. “After I finished school and returned home, I met my brother’s new friend. I disliked him right off, and we would argue at the slightest provocation. One night it exploded into a duel. Albus got between us, but Ariana was killed. None of us were ever entirely certain who cast the curse that went astray and killed her, though in my heart I believe it was Albus. Grindelwald fled, and Albus withdrew from the world and threw himself into research. He only faced his former friend when things had gone beyond the point of no return, and the Ministry all but forced him to take the field. In the end he wasn’t able to kill his former friend, though he did manage to narrowly defeat him. In the years he spent avoiding the conflict, hundreds of lives were lost.”

 

“But he still did the right thing, in the end,” Harry said.

 

“Perhaps,” Hermione’s eyes were slightly narrowed. This wasn’t in any history book she’d read, but it rang true.

 

“Did he do the right thing in the end for your godfather, boy?” He asked.

 

“He helped Sirius escape from the castle last year,” Harry looked honestly confused.

 

“He’s the reason Black was in Azkaban in the first place, lad. Think about it. He was the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and Sirius was one of the Order. He could have ensured the man had a trial. A simple questioning under veritaserum would have exonerated him, and you would have been given over to his custody. I find it very hard to believe that Albus was unaware that Pettigrew was your parent’s secret keeper either.”

 

The blood drained from Harry’s face then. “But why?”

 

“With Black in Azkaban, there was no one to contest his guardianship of you. No one to keep him from putting you with those muggles, and keeping you ignorant of your birthright. You grew up isolated, and resented by your family until he deigned to ‘rescue’ you. He sent his greatest advocate to you, so that your introduction to our world was as favourable to him as possible. You were told of the greatness of Gryffindor, and of Albus himself. Use your head lad, can you think of no reason why he’d do that?” His tone softened a bit.

 

“To keep me vulnerable, make me trust him,” Harry’s voice hardened a bit as he stared into his butterbeer.

 

“Oh Harry,” Hermione touched his arm.

 

“My brother believes that the ends justify the means, any means. Don’t be one of his pawns. You’re a good lad, you deserve better than to be sacrificed to his pursuit of the ‘Greater Good’. I trust you know the passage that leads to Honeyduke’s cellar?” he asked.

 

“I do,” Harry took a deep breath, trying to contain the anger he was feeling. The sense of betrayal was choking him.

 

“Sneak through every night around curfew, and come here. I’ll do what I can to help you survive this bloody Tournament, and my brother’s machinations,” he offered him his hand. “Will you accept it?”

 

Harry reached over and took his hand. “I will.”

 

“You’d best be going before anyone notices your absence,” he said. “Watch each other’s backs, and don’t trust anyone else with this information. Not even that Weasley boy that follows you around, or your Godfather. This knowledge can be deadly,” Aberforth warned, blue eyes boring into Harry’s.

 

“We’ll keep it secret, Sir,” Hermione promised.

 

Aberforth snorted. “I ain’t no Sir, missy. Get on with you both, and be careful,” he insisted, walking them to the door and ushering them out. He watched them head off through the snow, and he hoped that he’d gotten through to them. He was tired of watching his brother play god with other people’s lives. That poor boy hadn’t had a moment’s peace, and he deserved all the help he could get. He wasn’t as smart as his brother, nor as talented, but he did know right from wrong. What he’d done today felt right. He’d help the boy face this tournament, and then somehow outsmart his brother’s convoluted plans. Perhaps for once the means could justify the ends.

 

~Fin~


End file.
